Firiel
by aelfwyne
Summary: The life and times of Firiel
1. A Stray in the Wild

Author's Notes:

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment. I reap no monetary benefits from this and have nothing worth suing me for. Thanks to Neumeindle my beta without whom I would be lost.

Firiel was an orphan: she had known this for years, although she knew nothing of her parents or heritage and would probably believe even less of them. Nor did she remember anything of how she had come to live with her Guardian, the lady Amalia. Amalia was forever demeaning and verbally abusive toward Firiel, calling her little bastard and far worse things. Guardian was hardly a fitting word for Amelia. Indeed the term Lady could only be applied to her in its very loosest sense, as Amalia was the madam of the local house of ill repute. Amalia was a lazy and aging woman whose main interest was self-interest. Firiel seemed young, though she had lived in this house far longer than most of its ladies; she did not show the signs of aging that placed lines of age wrinkles and rolls of girth around the other females in the house. Almost her entire life had been spent under the care, if one could call it that, of the brothel owner. For years she had been kept indoors and forced to serve harlots. A life of service would not behave been so bad save that she had learned early that her youth was a thing to be envied by the women who worked in the house of lust. They took every opportunity to spite her. She also learned very early to school her appearance, such as it was, for those who delighted in young girls and the exotic were not uncommon. Firiel kept her hair in a braided bun on top of her head and covered with a worn bandana. She always waited until the end of the day to wash her hair and wipe the dirt and grime from her face, and she never wore anything form fitting or revealing. She had no wish to partake of the attentions lavished on the so-called ladies of the house.

"Firiel! Firiel!"

The screeching of her self -proclaimed guardian broke into Firiel's thoughts. She knew better than to take too long in answering, for verbal abuse had all too often been followed by a slap to the face.

"Coming my lady"

"Firiel, wash the dishes and air out the common room and see to it that it is properly cleaned before we open. "

"...But, I have not yet finished changing the beds, and then there will be linens to wash. Surely Elwen should have had these things done by now?"

"Don't yer give me none o' yer sass girl, just do what I tells ya or else!"

Firiel knew better than to inquire further and obediently began to clean. Elwen was a rather unlovely and not particularly bright servant girl, the daughter of one of the many ladies who worked selling their favors each night. Elwen could be counted on to do work only if someone gave her explicit instructions and then watched to be certain they were carried out. It was not that Elwen was lazy exactly, but she was incredibly simple minded. It was because of this unusual circumstance that Firiel happened to find herself near an opened window and overheard Lady Amalia's conversation with a rough dirty looking man outside.

"How much are ya askin fer that un who's cleanin?" Firiel heard him ask.  
It was all she could do to keep her gorge from rising and she immediately turned away in disgust. Even if the males who frequented such a place had not disgusted her, the thought of coupling with anyone turned her stomach. It was this indeed that forced her to decide that she must flee. Hearing her self-described guardian discussing what profit might be had in selling her 'services' sickened her. Firiel's ears had always been sharper than those of most people. They had helped her avoid unwanted attention more than once and today were perhaps saving her from a fate worse than death. The thought made her shudder Anywhere must be better than this and she was not without skills, having had the major responsibility for all menial labor in the brothel. Surely someone would be willing to hire her as a maid or cook or even a stable hand. Firiel knew she had to get as far away as she was able as quickly as she was able. Her self-proclaimed guardian might not care over-much about her welfare, but she certainly would not let the opportunity for coin escape easily. Firiel realized then that she would have to try to make a run for it immediately, but first she would have to get her boots and cloak.

She crept upstairs listening carefully for anyone who might see her. If this was going to work she had to have the advantage of time and surprise. Once in her room, she gathered her few possessions, tied them in her sheet and after checking to make sure no one was near the back windows threw them out to the ground. Firiel grabbed the blankets and some linens from another empty room thinking the laundry would make a good place to hide some food for her trip and would alsogive her an excuse to head toward the river. If anyone saw her, they would think she was going to do the wash as always.

On her way to the back door she slipped into the kitchen. The cook always left early for market in order to get the freshest vegetables and meats. The kitchen was dark and empty. Firiel grabbed the few left over rolls and some cold meat from the night before. She was just about to leave the kitchen and head out the door when she saw a large carving knife and tucked it into her boot as an afterthought.  
Firiel picked up her makeshift pack on her way out and headed towards the river. Once there she hurried along the shore until she came to the edge of the woods.

She had not been on her way very long when she heard hoof beats behind her. Firiel did not want to take the chance that anyone could tell Amalia which way she had gone, so she climbed up the nearest tree, her brown leggings and green tunic helping her blend in to the foliage. It was only a moment or two before she saw her pursuer. It was the same filthy man who had tried to pay for her earlier. Firiel's heart began beating so fast she thought he would certainly be able to hear it, but he rode right under the tree and did not even see her. He seemed to be looking for something but it never occurred to him to look up. After a while she heard him head back and she let out a sigh of relief. She stayed in the tree until she was sure he couldn't see or hear her climb down, then hurried on.

Firiel managed rather well for the first several miles. Luck had been with her and she found berries here and there, but the food she brought with her did not last long. Indeed food had not been her foremost concern. Other than a surety that those who followed had given up the chase, her main concern was water. The sun of the day was soon spent and with dusk came cold and her heart began to sink in despair. Thus it was when she heard a river running she headed toward it, ignoring the foreboding of something fell in that direction. If people were pursuing her she would simply wait till they too had given up. It was because of her ignorance of the wilds and what most folk would call monsters that she managed to, literally, surprise a band of rogue orcs.

They were the ugliest things she had ever seen and grumpy because they had just woken up.

"Garn" said one, "Whots this then eh?"

The filthy monster grabbed Firiel around the waist as the others continued to wake.

"Looks like a she elf," said another

"Kinda scrawny," said a third

"Who cares," replied the first " It's meat and I ain't had meat for days!"

"Here now," said a forth. "Let's have some fun with it before we eats it. She elves are good for more than just eatin."

Then he licked up the side of her face and pinched her breast, bucking his pelvis against her in a way that let Firiel know exactly what he thought she might be good for.

"C'mon pretty give a scream, I loves it when they screams."

Firiel managed to work the knife out of her boot and ran it as hard as she could along the arms of the one holding her.

This brought a wicked laugh from the rest of the orcs as one said,

"Looks like this ones a fiesty one!"

This only made the orc she had cut more angry.

She fought with every inch of her being but she was no match for them and was unconscious in short order. Firiel quite probably would have died then and there in the wild had fate not been with her once again.

Elladan and Elrohir were returning north toward Rivendell after running errands and messages for their father Elrond. With them was a small band of elven warriors, for it was deemed unsafe to travel alone in such dark times, even for such experienced hunters and fighters as the sons of Elrond. Several times already on their journey they had met and dispatched bands of orcs. They would not have been traveling at night but that it was urgent that their father and people learned how close to Rivendell the orcs had ventured. The beasts had come far enough north to present an immediate danger, and the twins and their band were stealthily following a large band of orcs, hoping to pick them off one by one and thus even the odds a bit before doing away with the rest. As they drew near, they were pleased to note the sounds of a battle already in progress and hoped that the infighting so common among orcs would do some of their work for them.

As they neared the camp, therefore, they were shocked to hear a feminine voice that certainly belonged to no orc. By the time they arrived, the female lay on the ground, alive but unconscious. The Orcs argued loudly over who had the greater claim to the fresh meat and spoils, and the twins took the opportunity to approach from down wind, surprising the monsters. After a long and tiring battle, the elves had slain the majority of the orcs, but the victory was hard won and the few orcs who escaped would return with more of their numbers. It was not wise to remain with so small a company.

"She's still alive, thank Varda,"Elladan noted, though what a girl would be doing alone in the woods at night was anyone's guess. Elladan pondered this while his brother stated the obvious.

"It's a girl." Elrohir was a bit taken aback, as he had at first thought it to be a young male who was fighting off the orcs.

"Why thank you for that brilliant observation brother," Elladan answered a bit sarcastically. "Next you will be informing us of the equally needless details that she is without escort and in male attire."

"Well we can't just leave her here to the mercy of those foul beasts. And there are not enough of us to face them when they return,"replied Elrohir heatedly.

"Ah yes, brother dear. I am sure those details would have escaped my notice also."

Elrohir examined her wounds and tried without success to wake her, then said,

"She has taken a blow to the head. I don't believe it will prove fatal, but she sleeps as soundly as you after the last festival brother."

At this a faint smile played across his lips. Elladan shot Elrohir a dark look at this comment, for their ada had spared no words at how unseemly it looked for a son of his house too sleep in while others were up and about working.

"Well what ever we do, we must do it soon," said Gildor. "Do you think the orcs will bandy over such things as they gather reinforcements?"

Several sharp retorts came to Elladan's mind, but Gildor was right. The party could not stay here, nor could they leave her here injured to await the orcs return. They had no time to search for her kin or escort. That left only one option: take her with them and decide how best to find where she had come from and how to get her back to her people later. Having made up his mind, Elladan was not one to wait around. He hefted her onto his shoulder and started north once again with a mere shrug at his twin's curious look.  
As the party of elves moved on, Elrohir contemplated that while Elladan had made the only decision time and expedience allowed, at least this time Elrohir would not be the one teased for bringing home a stray from the wilds. The remainder of the trip north was for the most part quiet. They moved as quickly as the worst injured among them were able. Elrohir contemplated the bedraggled looking female slung over Elladan's shoulder like a sack of potatoes as they walked. Her clothes were hardly the finery to which he was accustomed to seeing at home and she certainly needed a bath, but she had not acquired the tell tale stench which caused mortals to stand out so when they were unwashed for long periods.

Elrohir had once heard the seneschal say that an unwashed mortal could be smelled five leagues distant. He had thought this a gross exaggeration until one day a ranger had entered Imladris on an errand of some import. In his haste, the man had run afoul of a woodland creature which, taking exception to be trodden on, had used its only defense and sprayed the unfortunate man. Foul was indeed the correct word for it! Elrohir's nose wrinkled at the remembered odor. Elrond had insisted the Ranger bathe at once and despite murmured protests, the man had agreed. The maids had filled the bath water with over -generous amounts of sweet herbs, for even their nostrils were assaulted by his mere presence. Elrond provided the man with fresh clothes of the finest silk, a gift worthy of a king of men, yet the ranger had seemed a bit put out that Elrond had ordered his clothing burnt and the ashes buried. Yes, mortals and their ways were difficult to comprehend. Elrohir grinned to himself at the memory.

Elladan, seeing his grin and thinking that perhaps his twin found something humorous in seeing his brother with a damsel slung over his shoulder, took steps to rectify the situation and set her down gently on the thick grass. While he had not found her any great burden, even an elf needed some rest. They had come a considerable distance since they had first found the girl and most of it had been at a hurried pace to avoid more foes while so many of their number were injured. Even he had sustained a few cuts and bruises.

"We will stop here for a time to refresh ourselves before continuing home," Elladan ordered.

The others in the party, quite accepting of the fact that Elladan was in charge, began unwrapping lembas and drinking from oilskins. Elrohir however would not let an opportunity pass to get a dig in.

"Weary so soon brother?" Elrohir quipped. "Home is not far distant and surely such a burden would be better examined in a bed? Unless you like your women dirty?"

"I was merely seeing if we could awaken our slumbering guest yet," Elladan retorted, and then added, "However since you find the lady so fascinating that you prefer watching her over my shoulder to eating and drinking, then you may carry her the rest of the way home!"

"I would not dream of denying my brother such obvious pleasure," Ellrohir countered. "If such pleasure you deem it, then it is yours brother. Perhaps you will be able to keep this female more easily in hand than the lady Aredhel," he jibed.

Elrohir's eyes and head came up sharply at that. He had not realized Elladan knew anything about the time he passed with lady Aredhel, though being a son of Elrond it would not surprise him that some over-merry tongue or other had gossiped to his twin. There was a saying, ancient even among the firstborn, which loosely translated said "A falsehood could travel all the realms of middle earth before the truth had a chance to dress and mount." While it was true that elves were not given to telling outright falsehoods, it was not beyond them to embellish a tale a bit for interest's sake. Elrohir had no wish for his twin to continue on this line of conversation, so he agreed to carry their unconscious guest, hoping Elladan had not noticed that his true intent was to change the direction the subject had taken.

The sun was rising in all her glory, and painting a resplendent canvas across the eastern sky as the elves crossed the bridge toward home and hearth. Elrohir had hoped that his brother would be the one suffering the jests and jibes of the outland guard. Alas, Elladan had found a suitable excuse to escape from such indelicacies. Even after all these years Elrohir still managed to stumble into his twin's well-laid baits. Thus it was that he now played at fencing off the genial catcalls he received from all whom they passed.

"What is this you carry my Lord? It does not look like that which you set out to hunt unless our eyes greatly deceive us?" Galdor laughed merrily.

Elrohir grimaced and rolled his eyes at the good natured, albeit annoying, tease.

"Perhaps this is yet another pet for the menagerie?" quipped another. Elrohir 's habit of bringing home woodland creatures which required healing or attention to greater or lesser degrees had neared the realm of legendary.

"It was not I this time," Elrohir insisted. "It was Elladan who said we should bring her to adar."

"Of course it was," replied Galdor ,smirking.  
At that moment Elrond appeared and, having heard the jokes, smiled and said

"Son, why can't you ever bring me home something small and easy to heal, like a bird?"


	2. A Flighty Little Bird

Author's Notes:

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment. I reap no monetary benefits from this and have nothing worth suing me for. Thanks to Neumeindle for being my beta

Firiel was placed on a huge bed while various ellethen cleaned her and helped to tend her wounds under their lord's instructions. When it was clear that she had no wounds that should keep her unconscious so long, Lord Elrond himself came to examine her. As he closed his eyes and set his mind to search deeper into her wounds he found something which that surpriszed and amazed him. Even though this female looked mortal, Elrond could sense in her fëa something that could only be of elfin origin.

"How could this be possible?" Elrond thought to himself.  
Yet it was not something which could be debated. The young one before him was no mere mortal; she was most certainly part elf. She was indeed a puzzle and Lord Elrond did not wish to have to deal with yet another puzzle in these dangerous times.  
Elrond sighed. The Valar had sent this little one to him to heal and who was he to question the will of the Valar. Elrond reached deep into her senses and called to her to return from the dark recesses of herself where her mind was shivering in denial of all that had recently befallen her.

"Lasto beth lamen," he called firmly but gently. Then realizing he did not know her name and, remembering how he had teased his son earlier, he repeated, "Hear my voice little bird. Return to us now, all is safe." Speaking mind to mind was extremely draining but it enabled whomever you were speaking to to understand the thought behind your words even if they did not understand your language.

Firiel heard someone calling to her, but he seemed to be calling across a wide chasm. There on the other side of a great canyon she saw a tall and handsome warrior dressed in shining armour. His face seemed to glow from within and he had the lovliest smile and the most welcoming eyes she had ever seen. Warmth and love seemed to flow out of him, and he was calling to her.

"Come little bird. Come back to me. You are safe back little bird."

Firiel smiled. Was he actualy calling her "little bird"? How funny and strange, something about this stranger was reassuring, and she felt truly safe and comforted. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment as she followed the stranger's voice. Firiel had thought she was dreaming, but there stood the same face she had seen in her dream, the one who had called to her.  
"Why do you call me 'little bird'?" she asked as she smiled and drifted into a sound sleep.

Once Elrond was certain that she was out of danger and would begin to heal normally he left the room, giving instructions that she should be watched over and that he should be notified immediately when she woke up. Meanwhile Elrond headed to his chambers hoping for a short rest and a quick drink. However, turning the corner he almost bumped into Erestor who was looking quite upset and mumbling to himself. It was almost unheard of for Erestor to be so preoccupied that he did not see where he was going, which made Elrond sigh and wonder what could be so wrong.

"What is the matter my friend?"asked Elrond with concern in his voice.

"Your sons found more on their trip than a wounded girl, my Lord, and I fear their news does not bode well. They are in your chambers waiting to speak with you. I will let them tell you more."

Elrond nodded and felt a dull ache begin behind his eyes. The fact that Erestor was not willing to tell him everything at once meant the news was very bad indeed. Elrond sighed and continued into his private rooms where his sons waited to speak with him.  
"I understand that you have news for me?" Elrond asked as he entered the room.

"The orcs which we encountered on the way here carried few supplies with them. They were too many to be a small rogue band and too poorly supplied. I fear they must have a base camp somewhere nearby," answered Elladan.

"You wish my permission to take out a larger group of warriors to see if you can find their camp?" asked Elrond.

"Yes, they were far too close and I wish to ensure they have no opportunity to come closer," was Elladan's reply.

Elrond directed his next question to his chief advisor who had joined them., ""What is your view on this Erestor?"

"Several of our best warriors were injured in the attack that took place on the way here. They will need time to heal. We should, however, send scouts to assess how large a group we are talking about, where they are based and perhaps send word to Lothlorien. Lady Galadriel may be able to spare some warriors if this group proves more than we can easily handle. Orcs venturing so close to Imladris is not a good sign,", answered Erestor.

"I agree. Elladan, Elrohir, I do not like sending the two of you out so soon after returning but it would seem we have little choice. Sleep well this night, tomorrow take a small group with you and find this camp of orcs. Once you know their numbers either send for reinforcements from home, or if they are too many to easily handle send for help from the Golden Wood."

"As you wish," answered Elrohir.

Elrond could not help but be proud of his sons. They had grown into fine, hearty young warriors. Elrond hated the evil times they were now forced to live in. Too seldom did he have the chance to visit with his sons as he would wish, and even fewer chances to visit with his daughter.

Elladan interrupted his thoughts by asking,"What of the girl we found ? How is she?" 

Elrond was somewhat surprised because normally Elrohir would ask after something or someone his father had endeavoured to heal.

"She is doing as well as can be expected. She requires rest. She is very fortunate that you found her.," answered Elrond.

"Did she tell you her name?" asked Elrohir.

"No, not yet , but I am sure we will learn more after she has recovered from her ordeal," Elrond replied with a slight grin playing on his lips as he sighed inwardly to himself. It was sad that his sons did not have more time to devote to the young and lovely elleth who lay resting in the healing wing.  
At that moment someone knocked hard and fast on the door. Elrond went to open it wondering what would have anyone in his household so upset that they would disturb him during a private meeting with Erestor and his sons.

"You pardon for the interruption my Lord, but you said you wish to be told immediately when the young elleth awoke. She is awake my Lord, and she seemed quite frightened, almost hysterical. Oh, and my lord, it seems she does not speak any Sindarin."

Elrond's eyes opened wide at the appearance of the maid who had come to get him. Her hair was sticking out here and there and the front of her robes were drenched. Bits of food dangled in her hair and hung off her robe. There was a frustrated frown on her face and a look of concern in her eyes.

"Forgive my appearance my Lord, but considering her distraught state, and not being able to speak Westron myself, I thought it better that I come to get you directly." The maid smiled and blushed.

"That's quite alright Uthiel. If you all would excuse, me it seems I have a patient to attend to," Elrond said as he rose and hurried out the door. It was a strange thing to find an elleth who did not speak at least a little Sindarin, but perhaps she was a Wood Elf, in which case she was a very long way from home.

Elrond came to the closed door of the healing rooms and entered. The place was even more of a shambles than Uthiel had been. There was food all over the floor along with broken crockery and a tray. All of the drawers were opened and had been rifled through as though someone had been desperately looking for something. The young elleth was standing as far across the room as she could get, clutching the down comforter around her like a shield and holding a blunt butter knife as if to fend off anyone who should approach. Elrond thought perhaps she was feverish and it affected her judgment. He started to approach her, talking softly and reassuringly the whole while and repeated himself in every elfin tongue he knew. He found it shocking that she did not seem to understand a word that he was saying and thought, "Where could she have been raised that she knows no elvish at all?"

Finally the girl worked up her nerve and spoke. Questions spilled over like water pouring from a breach, as though a damn had burst inside her. She spoke in Westron.  
"Where am I? Who are you? What is this place? How did I get here? Why was I brought here? Where are my things?" Firiel said all this in as close to one breath as she could manage and the exertion and excitement left her a little dizzy and nauseous. She swayed as though she might faint and Elrond, having the lightning swift reactions of a seasoned warrior, was at her side and disarmed her so that she might not fall and injure herself further. This was more than Firiel could take in her weakened state and she proceeded to throw up- all over Elrond.


	3. Memories

Author's disclaimer: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment. I reap no monetary benefits from this and have nothing worth suing me for. Thanks to NeumeIndil for being my beta.

Firiel trembled in fear. This person had disarmed her too easily. He moved with the lightning speed of a warrior and now she had perhaps angered him even further by vomiting all over him.

"You are in Rivendell," he answered in Westron. "I am Elrond, Lord of Rivendell." As Elrond spoke he reached toward her shoulder, thinking to comfort her. The sudden movement of his arm caused her to flinch in fear and he realized that she had expected him to strike her. What must this poor child have experienced that she expects violence from one of her own kind, he thought. Elrond spoke to her again in a soft clear tone of voice that one might use with a frightened child or a spooked animal.

"You do not need to fear little one, I mean you no harm. You were attacked by orcs. A small scouting party found you and rescued you. You were in need of healing so, you were brought here to me. I am well-known as a healer. Now, perhaps you will tell me your name?"  
The man did not look or sound evil, but looks could be deceiving. Firiel was not quite ready to blindly trust anyone. She remembered clearly how she had been attacked and what the orcs were about to do to her before she lost consciousness. She shuddered in revulsion at the thought, wondering if they had accomplished their purpose before she was rescued, and shook her head trying to fight off her returning nausea at such terrible thoughts. Elrond misinterpreted the action and asked, "Is there some reason why you fear to tell me?"

"It's Firiel, my name is Firiel," she replied.

"Well, Firiel,"said Elrond, "You may remain in my house if you wish, but there will be several conditions."

Here it comes, thought Firiel. This is where he is going to say I must pay for his so-called kindness with servitude or worse. The thought of working did not bother her. It was the worse things he might ask that troubled her. There was no way she would willingly give such favors to anyone. Firiel asked in a voice full of suspicion, "What sort of conditions?"

"The first is that you will not raise a weapon against myself or any of my people again. Secondly, you will not venture into other parts of the house without permission, and you will not throw food at anyone."

Firiel remembered the incident with the female who had brought her the tray and stared at the food still covering Lord Elrond's robes. She began to feel badly about how she had acted, but she still wanted to make certain that there were no hiden conditions before she began apologizing and she did not want to give him a chance to ask for anything she would under no circumstances give. "If those are the only conditions I will agree to them."

Elrond wondered what she was so obviously afraid he would ask of her, but he kept those thoughts to himself and added, "Those are the only conditions for now. I may decide on more later, but if at any time you feel you cannot keep the conditions of our agreement, my warriors will escort you to the borders of our land and you will be free to go, as you came, unharmed by us."

Firiel had to admit that this seemed fair and replied, "We have a bargain then, and I am sorry I ruined your robes. I did not mean to throw up on them."

Elrond laughed. "My dear I have been a healer for many long years and you are not the first person to lose their food on my robes. Indeed, I seriously doubt you will be the last either. Besides, I really hate that particular robe; it scratches at the neck, " he confided. His laughter was infectious and Firiel joined him, in spite of trying not to.

Having gained enough of her confidence to have made her laugh, Elrond decided to plunge ahead with one last request."If you will excuse me Little One, I need to change out of this robe. I will have someone bring you some more food, as it seems your lunch is now on me." He grinned as she smiled at this and added, " And perhaps by the time I return to look at your injuries your room will be in better order?"

Firiel looked at the mess she had made and blushed. These people had only tried to help her and in her fear she had made a shambles of the room, dumped food on the serving girl and thrown up on the Lord of the house. If their positions had been reversed , Firiel would probably not have been as generous as Lord Elrond.

"Yes my Lord," she responded, red faced. "I will clean this mess up at once."

"Take your time child, I would not want you to strain yourself. You took quite a bump to the head," he replied. Firiel wondered again what exactly had happened after the orcs knocked her out, but she could not bring herself to ask if they had finished what they had started. So she simply nodded and said, "Very well my Lord."

Elrond left, closing the door behind himself. Thankfully he did not bump into anyone on his way to his bedroom, where he removed his robe and washed his hands before looking in his closet for clean garments. He placed the new robe on his bed and put on his bathing robe, then found some scented soap and shampoo and took the back passage from his rooms to the heated bathing pool. After the trials of this day he was looking forward to a few minutes of peace a quiet in the bath before returning to the never ending duties of running Imladris.

When he entered the bathing room, steam from the heated pool rose to greet him in curling tendrils of welcome. He shed his satin bathrobe, hanging it on a hook by the wall, and set his soap and shampoo at the edge of the pool where he could reach it. He then sat at the edge of the pool and dipped his feet and legs in first. The warmth of the water was soothing and welcoming to his stressed nerves and he could feel the muscles in his calves losing their stiffness one by one. Elrond inhaled and sighed deeply as he slipped the rest of his well muscled form into the water. This was one of the small pleasures which made being Lord of Imladris a more pleasant job. Elrond sat in the shallow end of the pool, his head reclining against the edge, and let his eyes drift closed in pleasure for a few moments. Then he sank below the water, wetting his hair completely. When he surfaced he undid his braids and after taking the stopper from the alabaster shampoo bottle he poured a little into his hand.

When his hair was completely lathered he took the soap, stood so that the water came just to his knees and lathered his body. He massaged the slick suds into his sore muscles, running his hands over his chest and abdomen. Next he lathered first one and then the other of his legs. It seemed like ages since Celebrian had been in Imladris and he missed her. It had been far too long since he had an elleth in his arms.

Standing in her room the night of their marriage, wrapped in her arms, her lips no more than a breath away from his, Elrond had not been able to think clearly. Not that he had cared. He only knew he needed and wanted her carresses. Not in some distant future that might never come, but then and there. He had warned her of this and she had understood his warning. Once they began this journey there would be no turning back. Once this was done they would travel through the ages together bound as one to the end of time.

"Elrond," she murmured, pulling his head down until their lips met. He groaned, his grasp tightening as his tongue teased her lips apart and penetrated her mouth. Her taste, sweet and exciting, overpowered his senses. He clung to her, aware of nothing but Celebrian. A sweet aching throbbed through him. He trailed kisses along her throat to where the edge of her gown covered her.

"You're so lovely," Elrond said hoarsely, lifting her into his arms. "More beautiful than any other elleth." He carried her across the room making her feel every bit as beautiful as he said she was. ."You are beautiful too," she had murmered. He had laughed.

"Ellon are not beautiful."

"But you are," she insisted. "Otherwise why would I enjoy touching you so much?"

"I was not sure you enjoyed it," Elrond replied, his voice a mere rasp.

"Do you like my touching you?"

"So much, I hope you will never stop."

His mouth covered hers in a long, deep kiss, taking them both beyond thought. They clung to each other. Elrond's senses reached out and plunged deeply into Celebrian's while at the same time her thoughts enveloped him. They were one and each other and themselves all at once. He could feel what she was feeling and knew on a level too deep for anything but their bond what she felt for him. Their union was earth shattering, mind blowing, stealing all coherent thought and filling him with a certainty that no matter what happened from hence forth , neither of them would ever be alone again.

When Elrond could think again, Celebrian was beside him, his arms around her. He wanted to just keep drifting in the warmth and closeness between them. Speech and movement seemed too dificult for him. Then she gazed lovingly into his eyes and sighed happily. He began to drift happily toward rest when he heard someone aproaching the bathing rooms, startling him out of his reverie. He dipped under the warm water to rinse himself off. He sighed loudly, as he rose from the water, dried off and replaced his robe, returning to the burden of running Imladris alone once more.

Authors note: this chapter has been altered to stay within guidelines. If you wish to see the steamier NC17 version of this chapter check out Firiel on the lotrfanfiction dot com site


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